The Talk
by Kuroi Neko1
Summary: One of Nny's new found torture toys aren't working and this lucky fellow gets the chance to try and destract Nny long enough to get him to reconsider. Yeah.. Good luck with that..


A/N - My first fanfic in who knows how long, so bear with me as I try and regain some sort of talent.  
  
The Talk  
  
Silence. Silence. Click, click, squick. Some quiet muttering was heard coming from the thin figure as he attempted to start the newly found device. Apparently Radio Shack wasn't as credible as he had hoped.  
  
At the same moment, the male- who was strapped into said device- decided that it may be time to relax slightly. If the machine doesn't work, he may just live through the night.- if he can keep himself from going mad while waiting his answer. He finally concludes that it's important to take one's mind of the things that are driving them insane in order to keep from reaching such a destination. And so, lacking any other ideas, he turns his attention to the muttering figure.  
  
A conversation with the psycho. It was a brilliant idea if he had ever thought one. The more distractions he gave him, the less of a chance the device would start up and end his existence. Anything was worth a shot, so he spoke the first conversation starter that came to his mind.  
  
"So.. Come here often?"  
  
The clicking stopped and the strangely familiar figure turned to face him, idly twirling a spatula in between his index and middle finger. He raised one eyebrow for a short second before smirking slightly. "This particular part of the house, no. I just recently discovered it myself. But I live here, so I would be here as often as I can." He then stopped twirling the cooking utensil and put it back to work before stopping again and giggling slightly. "The things people say before their existence becomes nonexistent. It never ceases to entertain me." The smile on his face grew ever wider as he had obviously just solved a world of problems and debated theories. The 1965 mini-calendar- which just replaced the spatula as the tool of choice- began to be twirled in similar fashion to the previous before being put to use. "Never lose that." His face went blank for a moment as he appeared to be desperately searching for the perfect word to end such a magnificent statement. "Spunk," he said slowly, making it sound more like a question than a conclusion, but he decided to stick with it just the same and continued working on the machine.  
  
The other man stared at him for a moment, hoping for him to elaborate more on his own before he had to continue the distraction. He couldn't quite place how oddly familiar the taller male was. He recognised the obviously malnourished form. The split-toe hoof boots. The odd randomly changing shirt symbols. The answer was shouting helplessly at the back of his mind, but the man quickly shut it up because he found it hard to concentrate with such a noise. Some people can be so inconsiderate.  
  
The nagging déjà vu finally took the best of him which allowed him to kill two chipmunks with one AOL Trial CD. "Speaking of spunk, do I know you?"  
  
The horribly thin figure hammered the machine with an increasingly amount of force and glared at what he was working on, obviously putting a far bit of restraint on himself to wait until the time was perfect before killing off another one of Earth's more pleasant creations. "You don't recognise me? No? Well, I suppose that is to be expected from such as yourself. Never noticing the slightest ripple in space outside your perfectly balanced world unless you can mock it." The effort used to hammer grew that much more powerful, despite the teen's lack of noticeable muscle. "How is it you can carry out your lives in total ignorance of your obvious effect on the world outside which you choose to ignore?!"  
  
The man suddenly began to think that there may have been a better question he could have asked instead to spare his ears from the loud banging sounds that the hammer was creating.  
  
Bang! Bang!! Ba- Flliiinngg! The nail which the man was hammering suddenly popped out with a "fling" and hit the wall behind him before making its way done the stairs and landing with a small splashing noise. This nail was most likely important as the lever it was attached to fell to the floor with a few more creative sound effects. The sound of the man's mind snapping could also be heard to toaster ovens and other useful household appliances. This caused him to then yell out nonexistent words and rhetorical questions such as "Why am I even bothering to fix this?! I could just as easily set you up in a working station!" and kick the piece of machinery excellence. And this, in turn, caused the piece of machinery excellence to hum and buzz chipperly in response.  
  
"Oooh.." He peered at the flashing "ON" button in total amazement at his mechanical genius.  
  
Watching the other man's finger move closer to said button, he thought he should act quickly as to stop his own demise. And hey, he may even be able to outsmart the other man! Who really knows?  
  
"Ehh.. You sure you wouldn't rather yell me some more?" The clever juices were definitely flowing.  
  
He smiled in an oddly innocent fashion, considering the circumstances. "No. I'm fine now."  
  
"Are you sure? You may never have anyone to yell at again? How can you be sure? Huh?" The man got the slightest feeling that he was being ignored when the other started ripping out random pages in the 1965 mini-calendar and watching them fall with mild interest. "Why aren't you paying attention to me and my wisdom?" He demanded.  
  
Rip. Flop. "You lost your spunk." Rip. Flop.  
  
"Oh.." He thought for a moment and wondered whether it was wise to ask a question out of curiosity again, considering the outcome of the last one. But what are the odds of such things happening once in such a small span of time? "Then.. Why aren't you killing me?"  
  
"Everyone's entitled to their last words." Rip. Flop. "And I'm sure they're painfully beautiful, but if you could wrap it up..?"  
  
"Well.. Uhh.. Yes, of course, I would, but is all this really necessary?" If wit didn't work, perhaps the voice of reason can.  
  
"No, probably not." Rip. Flop. "Hmm.." A thought processing noise! He must have gotten through to him. Well, he knew he would, but reassurance was all he needed. Now he can jus- "I ran out of pages.." He titled his head to one side and then the other, wondering if more pages could appear in good time. They didn't. "Ah well, all good things must come to an end." He pushed himself off from the wall he had been previously leaning against and pointed his index finger to the "ON" button in a slightly glee- filled way and pressed it.  
  
It took a few seconds after the motor started running and buzzing before something kicked into the doomed man's head. "Wait! You never told me how I knew you."  
  
Nny looked up from his Etch-A-Sketch, "Oh, you don't. But it sounds so much better when I say you do, don't you think?" He looked up at a random coffee stain on the ceiling, smiled and nodded at his question and went back to his Etch-A-Sketch.  
  
"What? But you look so familiar." The man regarded the extremely slow moving machine as a perfect chance to get the other to press the "WHEN IN DOUBT, TURN ME OUT" button.  
  
He shrugged, never looking up from his masterpiece, "I'm something of a celebrity."  
  
That made sense. Celebrities always did things like this to get more publicity- they were just never very good at it. "Oh. That's understandable."  
  
A great deal of buzzing then occurred followed by several other unmentionable sounds. The man had failed in his clever, clever scheme. But you can't blame a man for trying..  
  
A/N - On a better note, they can only get better! Or worse.. Depending on which way in time you're travelling. 


End file.
